Private Bragg Dumag of the 229th Macharia Mechanized Infantry Imperial Guard Regiment has completed basic training only but a week prior and has yet to be shipped out to fight for the Glorious Emperor of Mankind. As expected he has never faced any of the countless enemies of the Imperium as he has yet to be on a battlefield.
As such it comes to no surprise that he ran for his life as his comrade's headless body falls to the ground in a bloody heap.
It happened so suddenly. They were just running sentry patrol in the forest on the outskirts of the base to drive off local so they do attach the planets more dangerous predators. When they suddenly heard a most unusual noise.
The sobs of a crying child.
Bragg had tried to contact Control to report it but due to the storm communications have been down. The two had approached to see where the child was only to have his fellow guardsman's head ripped from his body and impacted against a nearby tree with a sicking, wet Crunch. Bragg didn't scream. He didn't roared at the unknown for killing the guardsman he didn't even know the name of nor did he frantically shoot his lazgun into the darkness. He just stood there and stared at the corpse, unable to comprehend what had happened until a girl's voice called out from nowhere in a whisper he barely heard.
Want to play a game…
It was only then did Bragg had decided to drop his weapon and run for his life in absolute terror. In his frantic state he lost what direction he came from and unknowingly ran faster and further into the darkness. He could hear more and more whispers in the dark forest until the became almost deafening.
Only for it to be utterly silent.
Bragg had to stop and lean on a tree to catch his breath, breathing loud stuttering gulps of fresh air. Once he gotten his breathing under control the guardsman tried to vox Control to call for backup and kill whatever is in this forest. Bragg pulled out his flashlight to try and find his vox.
Startled, Bragg almost dropped his only source of light but managed hold it and to point his light to the source of his startle.
The skinless, helmeted skull of an guardsman stared at him with lifeless lidless eyes.
The man screamed as he ran once again. All logic fleeing his mind as his primal, untrained instincts for survival kicks in. The monster in the shadows is amused by the man's reaction if the daemonic laughter is anything to go by. The shadows in the dark seem to come alive as they slash Bragg's back, forcing him to change direction as he fled. The Flak armor on his torso is as useful as wet paper in terms of protection against the things attacks. Pure agony racks the guardsman back as was slashed again and again as he ran for his life. The rain of the storm adding literal salt to his open wounds, driving him to run faster and faster. Bragg is slashed again and again until he see the searchlights of the Imperial Outpost in this region of the planet. He smiles as ran as fast as his body is capable of. He clears the outskirts of the forest and is nearly blinded by the powerful searchlight.
Just as Bragg thinks those wonderful thoughts he is lifted off the ground as a sickly wet ripping fills his ears and all the the air is pushed from his lungs. His strength is drained from him in a instant, he doesn't understand why. Bragg looks down and see the reason for this sudden change.
There is a hand in his abdomen.
An armored hand that is nearly the same thickness of his chest.
Why doesn't this hurt?
Bragg looks to see what the hand is attached to and discovers a massive man in dark blue power armor with almost pale white skin, dark curly hair, brown eyes that peer into his soul and a handsome face filled with surgical that adds another layer of beauty. The guardsman briefly thinks that his girlfriend who runs communications at the Outpost would leave him if another man had this sort of beauty.
The insane smile on the monster face was the last thing Bragg saw before it everything went black.
The Night Lord Sergeant snarled with demonic glee as he pulled the intestines out of the guardsman's abdomen with his lightning claw. All around this isolated Imperial Outpost were dead bodies and screaming wounded as a squad of Chaos Raptors ripped apart the few survivors from the initial sniper fire from the Scouts hiding in the forest around the base.
As the Raptors torment and tortured the last of the fighting guardsmen the Major in charge of the base was in his command hut, trying desperately to send a distress call for reinforcements. The Major was screaming into the vox but with the jamming signal from the traitor astartes ship cloaked in orbit he was met with only blaring static.
The Night Lord Sergeant gunned his jump pack, slamming through the pitiful concrete wall of the command hut with a mighty roar. The stone wall of the hut exploded inward in a spray of debris. The astartes lazily swiped at a communications officer and hurled the Major off his feet into a wall then onto the floor stunning the man. The Night Lord shredded the vox to smoking strips of metal with his lightning claw without any thoughts to it and grabbed the Major by the ankle and dragged him to a table.
The other guardsmen were all dead or dying by now and the Raptors were gleefully torturing and mutilating the shrieking wounded for their own sadistic amusement. Their screams echoing inside the hut as the Major looked to the astartes sized hole in horror, fear engraving itself his face.
"Please! Don't kill me, have mercy!" The Major pleaded desperately.
The astartes laughed, grabbed the Major's left index finger, and effortlessly snapped it sideways like flipping a switch.
The Major screamed in pain, the Night Lord grabbed the another finger. The Major shook his head desperately, eyes wide with terror.
"I am looking for my little brother, I have tracked him to this planet so I would like to know: Where is the heretic orphanage?" The Night Lord demanded with a demonic snarl.
"I will tell you! I will tell you everything I know!" The Major said frantically.
"Fucking… Coward!" A feminine voice called out angrily and through gritted teeth. The Night Lord turned to see that the communications officer he had swiped at earlier was still alive. He would have had scolded himself if it was for the fact the communication officer was a young woman.
A very attractive woman indeed…
A sadistic smile crept upon the astartes face as he turned back to the Major.
"Good..." he said satisfied.
The astartes proceeded to lift the Major up and slam him down onto the table with enough force to not only render him unconscious and break the table but also snap a few bones as well in the progress, leaving the very much alive man on the shattered table the Night Lord turn his attention to the woman on the floor. She was not paralyzed with fear but neurological damage from of the glancing blow of the Lightning Claws.
He looked over her wounds as he approached and kneed down to her, looming over her with glee. Her stomach and thighs were bleeding but the cuts were not deep enough to be fatal and none of her feminine biology was damaged. He gotten careless and lazy during this raid and that combination was the mother of all fuck ups but Slaanesh must be smiling on him today as he looked upon his prize and smiles.
He takes a single talon of the lightning claw and with great care and gentleness he pushes it under the rip in her trousers.
"Hello there beautiful, why don't we get to know each other a little more as we have some Fun…" The Night Lord then shredded her clothing with a flick of a finger. Bare and exposed the woman screams as she struggles to cover herself then spit in the sergeants face out of spite. The astartes only chuckles as he held her down.
"Ohh-h I like it rough. The name is Augusta and your gonna be my new plaything…"
The woman screamed as the servo jointe of his armor hissed open.
Franklin desperate to overcome this heresy of the body. He redouble his prayers of Redemption, Purity and Self Control as he was being flogged in the scourging rack. With thoughts of the pain and agony purifying his soul and a nun currently whipping him…
The heretical limb refused to go down.
"Stop this sinfulness at once, you disgusting Peccator!" The nun demanded in outrage, seeing that he still had an bulge poking up through his trousers. Franklin felt intense pleasure in his groin at this stern rebuke as tried desperately to stop himself from releasing. The nun whipped his back with all her strength as intense pleasure filled his crotch and the involuntary muscle contraction pumped the sinful fluid into his underpants, creating an instant dark wet spot.
The nun roared with outrage and whipped him harder than ever and the bulge was already erect again.
Franklin was deeply dismayed by what was happening to his body now, he had never had these problems before his testicles descended. It had now been weeks since the first time he got an erection in the bathtub and every day the problem got worse. The nuns had tried everything to discipline these heretical, subconscious actions out of his body but if anything the disciplines had just made the matter even worse. The more severely the nuns punished him, the more his body relished these heretical actions.
First they had tried making him sleep out in the rain until it almost killed him but this only served to him a bulge. They had tried shouting condemnation at him for hours but the strict rebukes had made him swollen the entire time. They had tried sticking electrodes to his groin and giving him agonising electric shocks but he had simply released over and over again until he nearly died of shock with no noticeable improvement. They had used huge syringes to drain the blood from his bulge but his rebellious groin had released all over their hands as soon as they inserted the needle. They had tried swatting it, putting freezing it, sticking pins right through it, inserting knitting needles down his groin hole, but every time he had simply released.
They had even tried locking his penis inside a male chastity device full of razor sharp metal spikes to train his groin to stop getting swollen. The pain of these spikes had made him constantly engorged to completely fill the device. The nuns had eventually been forced to remove it before he bled to death, giving him a transfusion to replace so much lost blood.
Franklin considered that they simply cut it off in an attempt to rid himself of this heresy but Mother Superior refused saying that he needs to learn how to control this heresy. Mostly it was because of his traitor astartes heritage they fear if they were to cut off the heretical member it might grow into something chaotic and he might even grow it back with more mutations.
That is something which the Canoness Preceptor will not risk.
Franklin felt another release force itself out of him. He didn't know what to do. He deeply loved the stern nuns, he always had. Ever since his earliest memories he had adored the nuns, adored the floggings and beatings. He adored their holy domination of his mind, body and spirit to purge him of his heritage. His happiest childhood memories had always involved a nun scolding and inflicting pain on him. He always felt so safe, at ease and complete when a stern nun was disciplining him. It felt sacred to be in complete submission to a nun of the Holy Adeptus Sororitas. He loved the nuns, loved them with all his heart. They made his life feel like it is worth living, their pain and dominance was a haven to him. He absolutely adored these wonderfully strict and cruel women. He would gladly die to protect them from harm.
Before his private parts had developed he had been able to simply bask in the purifying pain and domination of these nuns, without any problems to upset his tranquility but now that he was entering adolescence his private parts were threatening drag him to damnation. Night and day he became swollen over the nuns and the pain they caused. He could barely even be in the same room as a nun anymore without getting a bulge, even in his dreams this heresy has plagued him.
Every night for as long as he could remember, he had had wonderful dreams about being beaten and disciplined by the nuns but now when he had these same dreams he would feel the sinful pleasure in his swollen groin and wake to find a new wet patch of release in his nightwear.
The nun in the scourging room with him was furious by now, nearly purple with outrage and was determined to somehow beat the sin out of him. All she was achieving was to make his groin more swollen than ever. Franklin said nothing. He never spoke unless given permission to do so, barring emergencies. He was completely submitted to the will of the Sororitas, even if his autonomy refused to obey. He was psychologically incapable of disobedience to any female in the servitude of the Holy Emperor.
The only females he had ever seen were either Orders Dialogous, Orders Hospitaller, or Orders Militant. He was trained to obey all of these without question. He had never seen a Sororitas who didn't have authority over him, so he subconsciously submitted himself completely to any woman of the Emperor he encountered.
Franklin was very comfortable with this arrangement, he greatly enjoyed submitting to the Sororitas. He assumed that everywhere in the Imperium women ruled over males like this with the exception of Inquisitors and the Emperor himself of course as well as a few other holy men of divinely appointed authority like the Astartes and the Saints.
It was this deep respect for the Sororitas that had Franklin respect women so much and why he hate his father. Any man who would be so insubordinate as to actually rape a woman, such a "man" is simply no longer a man. Franklin wished to become the acolyte of a venerable female inquisitor one day, and serve her without question as she did her holy work. He just wanted to spend his life to the will of the Emperor, he had the most profound feeling that this was what he was created to do.
Another release caused by the nun's whip shot out of him and Franklin felt deeply discouraged. He would never be able to serve a lady Inquisitor with his private parts developing a mind of their own. Franklin prayed with all his might to get his member to obey. The nuns had commanded that his groin top becoming swollen and releasing its heretical fluid and every fibre of Franklin's soul yearned to obey them. His groin was seemingly oblivious to the natural order of life however and obeyed no one as it just kept rebelling.
The nun in the room with him was causing extreme excitement in his member. Her stern words, her dominance, her cruel whip, it all inflamed his heretical limb uncontrollably. Her mere overpowering presence was filling his swollen groin with sinful disobedience. Franklin wanted to speak, to apologise to this exalted woman but she had not given him permission to speak. His submission was too complete for him to disobey. He lay transfixed in the scourging rack in her presence, utterly still and obedient as she flogged him with all her strength and screamed condemnation at him. The boy released yet again as he asked himself.
What was wrong with him?
Sister Mary sternly swatted her cane down over Franklin's knuckles, frowning at the obvious erection in the pants of his grey robes. He was kneeling before her on the hard floor, hands outstretched with the backs of his hands facing the ceiling and was completely still as a statue. He had perfect discipline apart from his private parts and was being perfectly obedient like he always was. Sister Mary swatted his knuckles again and a conspicuous dark wet patch appeared in the front of his pants at the head of the outline of his erection.
Sister Mary sighed, this clearly wasn't helping Franklin's growing sexual problems.
The boy was obviously trying his best to have self control. She had helped raise this child from infancy, she had heard a lifetime of his confessions and she knew him very well. He was the very model of obedience, he would not be doing this if he could control it. Franklin had said in multiple confessions that he couldn't control his erections and ejaculations and Sister Mary believed him.
Sister Mary decided to ignore the wet patch on the front of his pants, and just kept caning his knuckles as normal without rebuking him for it. The poor boy was trying his best, it was cruel to keep condemning him for it. The nun gave Franklin a kind smile and swatted his knuckles again. This knuckle swatting was just part of the daily routine, not a punishment for poor behaviour. All the children without exception had periods of knuckle caning throughout the day just part of the routine, to cleanse them from the sins of their parents.
The children were used to this, the path to redemption for the children of heretics was hard and full of pain. Ever since they were very small they had been daily made to hold still and accept their punishment and these children had accepted their fate with the pure unquestioning faith of children.
Ever since Franklin was a toddler he had had his knuckles caned at these set times each day. He had cried at first like they all did but through sheer repetition the children all eventually stopped crying after a while. Sister Mary gazed lovingly at Franklin, this little boy that she had helped raise so well and gave his knuckles another sharp swot. Franklin held her gaze, his own eyes filled with deep adoration and worship and the wet patch became bigger. She sighs as she speaks in a motherly tone.
"I know that you are really trying. I know that you always try your best and I have faith that in time you will overcome this weakness of the flesh. You must keep your faith strong and you will succeed," Sister Mary told him reassuringly as she swotted his knuckles.
Franklin had not been given permission to speak, so didn't reply but his eyes widen for a fraction of a second and his face looked deeply moved by her kind encouragement before a look of panic settled across his eyes and the stock look fell upon It.
His eyes became wet and tears of emotion started to silently roll down his face. The other nuns had been shouting condemnation at him for weeks, Sister Mary's words just now was likely the only kind encouragement he had received recently. Sister Mary gave a stern little smile and wiped the tears from his face. She put a cloth to his nose and commanded him to blow his nose before the tears made it run.
"You have always been a good boy Franklin. You will succeed at getting past this and I have no doubt that you will become an Inquisitor's fine servant one day. I believe in you, with the Emperor's help you can do this," Sister Mary encouraged him compassionately.
Franklin's face was the most deeply moved she had ever seen it, and a look of optimistic determination filled him. Sister Mary resumed caning his knuckles. The wet patch grew bigger yet again, and Franklin's face fell.
"Oh no you don't, no frowning. I will turn that frown upside down." The nun said a toddlers rhyme fondly. Sister Mary used her free hand to tickle around Franklin's ear. Ever since he was a baby this had made him giggle. Franklin didn't move, his discipline too perfect but the sides of his mouth were forced upwards as she tickled his ear.
His grin got bigger and bigger till it filled his face and he was clearly straining not to laugh without permission. Sister Mary just kept tickling him and soon a fond smile was creeping across her own stern face. Franklin was smiling ear to ear, desperate not to laugh and Sister Mary felt such deep love for the child.
Franklin didn't break his silence to laugh, it had been years since she had been able to tickle a sound out of him without permission but his face was filled with a giant ticklish smile. She didn't stop tickling his ear for the rest of the knuckle caning period and the goofy frantic smile didn't leave his face the entire time.
Even better, the wet patch didn't grow this entire time. It seemed that she had inadvertently stumbled upon a solutio. The faculty would be so relieved. Sister Mary stopped tickling his ear at the end and lovingly kissed his forehead. He was smiling happily, cheered up by the lengthy tickle and left with a huge grin on his face.
Sister Mary smiled delightedly, she really did love that boy to death.